The Darkness Inside
by Hot elf
Summary: It's the night before the final battle against the Archdemon, and Megan Cousland can't sleep. So she searches out another Warden to share the burden of their destiny. Inspired by olivegbg's wonderful painting, which she graciously allowed me to use as a cover image.


_This was inspired by the lovely olivegbg and her amazing Riordan art that I must have stared at for hours. She kindly allowed me to use it as cover image for this story, but you can find a bigger version on deviantart titled "If you have somewhere to go, get out of here!"._

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**The Darkness Inside**

"What do you want?" His speech was a little slurred, as if he was drunk, a suspicion confirmed by the half-empty bottle of wine in his hand, but his grey eyes were clear and the pain in his voice was raw, undimmed by the mellowing effects of alcohol.

Megan knew well enough that there was no solace to be found in wine once you were a Warden, unless you drunk yourself senseless. Which might well be what Riordan had in mind.

"To talk." She pushed past him into his room. "None of us are going to sleep tonight, so we might as well keep each other company."

"Then, why are you not with Alistair?" Riordan shook his head. "I'm no fit company for a lady tonight, I'm afraid."

"I'm not a lady." Megan raised her chin. "I'm a Warden. And Alistair is busy talking to Eamon," she lied without compunction. She had promised Morrigan not to mention the ritual. And, if she was honest, she was far from convinced it would work anyway.

Riordan closed the door and leaned back against it, watching her with half-closed eyes, the shadows under them betraying the depth of his exhaustion. He was shirtless, dressed only in a pair of scruffy leather pants, and his bare torso bore ample witness to the time he'd spent in Arl Howe's dungeons. He looked painfully thin and his skin was covered in scars and half healed sores.

But the muscles underneath were firm and taut and his back was straight. He would still be a formidable opponent in a fight, and she was glad they would have him at their side tomorrow.

He was also attractive, despite the weariness; despite the strands of grey in his dark hair; despite the lines crossing his forehead. _Dark and broody and full of secrets._ Megan made a face. It was not the first time she was falling for that type, not by any means.

"So, talk." He raised the bottle to his lips and took a deep draught.

She walked over to him, stopping right in front of him, and took the wine from his hands. "Let me have some. I'm parched."

He watched her drink, his eyes fixed on her throat, his expression unreadable. When she'd finished, he extended a hand and ran the tip of his finger slowly downwards from her chin to her breastbone, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake.

Megan tilted her head slightly, as if in invitation, her tongue darting out to lick the last drop of wine from her lips. "I've changed my mind." She caught his gaze and held it firmly. "I don't really want to talk."

He exhaled sharply, his eyes darkening, but he didn't move. "What do you want, then?"

She shrugged. "A chance to forget about tomorrow. A little shared warmth, maybe. Something to take the edge off the pain."

Riordan raised an eyebrow. "Then you should be with that pretty assassin of yours. I'm sure he'd be happy to help you out."

"I'm sure he would," she conceded. "But he wouldn't understand. Not truly. I'd rather stay here, with you."

He laughed briefly, bitterly, then shook his head. "Bad idea, sweetheart. With the mood I'm in tonight, I'm afraid you wouldn't find me a very considerate lover."

Megan huffed, impatient to get his scruples out of the way. "You think _considerate_ is what I'm after?"

Taking a step back, she began untying the laces of her shirt. He made no move to stop her, watching her intently, but neither did he reach out for her again. There was a tenseness to his posture, a suggestion of tightly coiled up power that sent a flash of heat straight down to her core.

Slowly, she undressed, keeping her gaze upon him the whole time, frank and unapologetic, until she stood before him, bare and shivering in the cold night air. Only then did he step closer, cupping her cheek with his right hand and running his calloused thumb over her lips.

"You're beautiful." His voice had grown rough. "Young and sweet and beautiful."

"I'm just as tainted as you." Megan held her breath at the expression flashing up in his eyes at her words. "I'm not an innocent, Riordan. I know what I'm doing."

"I highly doubt that." But his other hand was already reaching around her back to pull her close, and then his mouth was on her throat, feverishly hot and demanding as he yanked back her head and attacked her smooth white flesh mercilessly with lips and tongue and teeth. The stubble on his cheeks scraped her skin raw.

Megan swayed on her feet, a moan rising from her throat as she arched against him, eager to feel his skin on hers. The bottle dropped from his hand, unheeded, staining the rugs a deep dark red, while her nails dug into his shoulders, deep enough to draw blood. Riordan's answering groan was hoarse and feral, and his grip became so tight it hurt.

"Maker, yes." Megan felt herself literally tremble with need, her whole body consumed by a rush of desire so intense it made it hard to think, impossible to stop.

"Leave the Maker out of this," he growled, biting down hard on her shoulder, making her yelp. "Tomorrow you can call on his help all you want, but _this_-" Another bite made her flinch even as it sent her yet deeper into the spiral of helpless, uncontrollable _want_. "This is a thing of darkness."

"I'm not afraid of darkness." Megan felt an almost hysterical laugh bubble up inside her.

Riordan's eyes narrowed. Taking hold of her arms, he marched her backwards to the big four poster bed, then shoved her down roughly, sending her sprawling down onto the mattress. For the first time, Megan felt a hint of fear.

Who was he, really, this mysterious Warden sent from Orlais? She knew nothing about him, nothing at all. By the light of day, he had seemed sober, restrained, and honourable. It was hard to reconcile that person with the savage stranger now glaring down at her.

Her apprehension must have shown on her face.

Riordan laughed mirthlessly, reaching for the laces of his pants. "Second thoughts? If you want me to stop, you'd better make up your mind soon."

She hesitated for a mere heartbeat, but then she caught a glimpse of sadness, deep in his eyes, and there it was again, that instant connection she'd felt when she'd first set eyes on him. It didn't matter who he was. He was her fellow Warden, he shared the unmentionable secret of what it meant to carry the taint. If this was his darker side, well, she could match that. She was no stranger to the darkness inside, she had learned to live with it, accept it as part of who she was.

He stepped out of his pants, hard and ready, his eyes gleaming with a passion that mirrored her own growing desire. "Well?"

Megan shook her head. "No second thoughts. Never. Do what you will."

For a moment he appeared stunned by her response and, before he could recover, she sat up in one fluid motion and took his cock between her lips, glancing up at his face, revelling in his sharp intake of breath and the way his features contorted with lust.

He took only a moment to regain his balance. Weaving his fingers through the strands of her hair, he held her firmly, leaving her no chance to pull back as he thrust into her mouth. Megan felt her eyes water as she tried to accommodate his girth, relaxing her throat as best she could. He was rough, bordering on brutal, and part of her rebelled against this even as another part welcomed the pain where his fingers tugged at her scalp. Pain was _feeling_, pain was _life_. Whatever else it was, pain was better than numbness.

Riordan's eyes were closed, and she wondered what he saw as he lost himself in the heat of her mouth engulfing him. Looking up at him, she couldn't help admiring his body: his hard chest; his strong arms; the muscles in his stomach rippling as he moved. Involuntarily, she moaned around his shaft, and his eyes flew open.

He pulled back with a sigh, motioning for her to lie down. She took a few deep, grateful breaths as she scuttled back on the mattress. He followed her, perched on his hands and knees above her, no hint of tenderness in his expression; just a single-minded determination that excited her more than any caress. He hadn't even kissed her so far, had hardly touched her, but Megan was soaked already, aching for him, more than ready to take him.

Taking hold of her wrists, he pulled her arms up over her head, pinning her down hard. Megan felt utterly at his mercy. It was... hot and scary and, at the same time, oddly liberating. All through the past year, she had been in charge; she'd been the one to make the decisions, with everyone looking to her to point them in the right direction. Riordan was ready to take the lead, without fear or hesitation. Here, in his iron grip, every decision was taken from her; here, she was blissfully free of the need to command.

When he spread her wide and claimed her, deep and hard, she almost screamed with relief. If she'd been any less ready for him, he'd have hurt her, forcing himself inside her in one single stroke but, as it was, it was perfect, just what her body had been crying out for. He didn't even pause for a second, pounding into her hard and fast, no quarter given, and she welcomed it with every fibre of her being; she _wanted_ every brutal, aggressive thrust. His mouth was back on her throat and breasts, sucking and nipping at her skin as if he wanted to mark her, and maybe he did.

She closed her eyes too, at this point, surrendering herself completely to the white-hot flames racing through her body, reducing her to a single burning point of pure, perfect pleasure. As her orgasm tore through her, obliterating every thought and feeling, she felt his hips jerk against her through the haze of lust, heard him groan as he spilled deep inside her.

He collapsed on top of her, heavy and boneless, his eyes still squeezed shut, his breath coming in quick, hard gasps. She gave him a moment to recover, then nudged him off her body so she could breathe again.

"Megan." He rolled on his back next to her, staring at the canopy. "I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Stop worrying, Riordan. I'm a big girl."

He was silent for a moment, then he turned to look her in the eyes, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She smiled back, stroking his cheek gently with her thumb. "Will you kiss me?"

There was a moment of hesitation, a mere heartbeat, before he nodded and pulled her into a long kiss, tender and sweet, completely unlike their frenzied coupling. Megan savoured every moment of it, breathing in his scent, committing his taste and the feel of his lips to memory.

When the kiss ended, she let go of him with a small sigh of regret and slid off the bed, gathering up her clothes as she made her way to the door. Riordan made no move to stop her as she put on her shirt and pants, didn't say a word as she pulled on her boots.

Only when she reached for the door handle did he speak. "Megan?" She raised a questioning eyebrow and he swallowed hard. "Thank you."

"No need." She smiled at him, feeling oddly light-hearted. "Fellow wardens, remember? We share the burden."

"That we do." He nodded, his face blank. She wondered what was on his mind. "Until tomorrow, Megan."

"Tomorrow." The door closed behind her with a heavy thud. _Our burden. The duty that cannot be forsworn. We'll bear it together._

There was no need to state the obvious. Barring a miracle, tomorrow the darkness would claim them both. Forever.

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_Big hugs and thanks to suilven for another amazing beta job.  
_


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